


By the Sound of Her Wings

by therjolras



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo, The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Universe Alteration, crossovers ftw, lady death is at work tonight, like i really love this crossover, the barricades
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:56:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therjolras/pseuds/therjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome, Lady Death, to our lonely barricade...</p>
            </blockquote>





	By the Sound of Her Wings

Bahorel didn’t hurt anymore.

It was a miracle. Perhaps Combeferre had done something especially anazing and taken all the pain away. He suspected otherwise, though. Not even Combeferre could heal such wounds as Bahorel had received that morning.

That left only one option, then.

“Bahorel? _Bahorel_!” Enjolras was saying, and his voice was fuzzy, and although he was shaking Bahorel by the arm Bahorel couldn’t feel it. He sat up and got to his feet, leaving his still, cold body behind on the floor of the Corinthe.

“I didn’t even survive the first attack,” he muttered.

“‘Fraid not,” said a voice. Bahorel turned, his eyes falling upon a girl: she looked more real than the rest of the Corinthe, and yet less real. She was pale as a ghost, nigh on snow-white, her black eyes lined with charcoal and her black hair wild and unkempt. She wore a ragged chemise and skirt, both black, her pale arms bare, a silver chain glittering about her neck. All at once she looked a gamine and a queen, a child and a creature as old as the sun.

“Who are you?” Bahorel asked.

“You know who I am,” she said.

And he did.

“What happens now?” He asked.

“Now we find out,” she said.

She offered her hand, and he took it; it was awfully cold. There was the sound of wings… and he was gone.

 ~~~

“You must have loved him a lot,” the girl said. Eponine nodded, getting to her feet. “I was selfish, though. He’s probably gonna die ‘cause of me.”

“You never know,” said the girl, who Eponine knew was death. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Eponine said, and took her hand. There was the sound of wings… and she was gone.

 ~~~

They had taken him.

_It is over_ , thought Jean Prouvaire. _I shall not let them make me betray the cause_.

They lined up in front of him, clicking their bayonets into position. Prouvaire drew in a breath, and for the first time he had to quell the terror in his chest.

_Father, I’m coming home. Is there a seat for me in Paradise?_

“Long life the republic! Long live the future!” He called out.

And they fired.

“That was awfully brave,” said a voice. Prouvaire turned, and met the dark, dark eyes of a lady pale as snow. “I know who you are,” he said, and bowed. A smile crossed her face. “That’s awfully neat, Jehan. Do you know what happens now?”

“Do you take me to glory?” Prouvaire asked.

“I guess so,” said Lady Death. “Come on.” He took her hand. There was the sound of wings… and he was gone.

 ~~~

“Did I screw up?” Gavroche asked. She shook her head, helping him to his feet. “No. It was just time.”

“I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?” He demanded. “Right before the battle, in the cafe. You were looking around, all suspicious-like.”

“Surveying,” she said. “I have a big job to do here.”

“It’s gonna go all bad, isn’t it?” Gavroche asked. She nodded. “Come on, now. It’s time to go.”

“Will it be nicer there?” Gavroche asked.

“It should be,” she replied.

“Alright,” Gavroche said, and took her hand.

The sound of wings…

and he was gone.

 ~~~

“I should not have survived that fall,” Courfeyrac said, getting to his feet and surveying the carnage around him. No one took any notice of him. which rather bothered him. He wasn’t accustomed to being ignored. He didn’t like it.  
“You didn’t survive,” said the girl standing next to him. She surveyed him with a baleful smile through her wild black hair.

“I didn’t?” Courfeyrac said, too startled to be polite. She shook her head. “It’s time to go.”

“Go where?” Courfeyrac asked.

“Now is when you find out,” she said. “Come along.” She took his hand. She was very cold. “Are you Lady Death?” Courfeyrac asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I am.”

 ~~~

Bossuet was bleeding too much. Joly couldn’t hold it in. “Just breathe, Laigle,” he begged. “Please.”

“Too late… for that now,” Bossuet managed. They were tucked in a corner, out of the line of direct fire, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. The barricade had fallen.

“We’ve failed,” he whispered.

“‘Sokay,” Bossuet whispered. “At least… we failed togeth--” he broke off. “Together,” Joly said. There was the sound of footsteps close; Joly felt tears well up in his eyes. He was afraid.

“Joly,” Bossuet whispered.

And then they were found. The soldiers burst in, fixing their guns on the two of them. Joly only had time to tighten his grip on Bossuet’s hand before they fired.   
“Joly?” Bossuet said. He sat up, looking at Joly in confusion. “Are we--?”

“You are,” said a girl’s voice, and they looked up. A pale girl, dressed in black rags, bent over them with one hand extended. “And now it’s time to go.”

Joly didn’t question her. He took her hand.

There was the sound of wings… and he was gone.

 ~~~

“But I _can’t_ go!” Feuilly cried. “I still have work to do.”

The lady looked pained. “I’m sorry, Feuilly. You’re time’s come. Someone else’ll finish this job.”

“Who?”

“I dunno,” she replied. “You’d have to ask my brother, he’s better at that than me. Now come on. It’s time to go.”

“I _can’t_ ,” Feuilly said. He stepped back, and nearly tripped over his own corpse. The girl shook her head. “You _must_ ,” she said, and there was a hint of power in her voice. She seemed to grow taller, towering over him, and her dark, dark eyes bored into his. Feuilly shook his head, looking around at the falling bodies and invading soldiers, his own body at his feet. “I really must, musn’t I?” He finally said, his voice small, the defiance leaking away. She nodded, her exasperation leaking away with it. Feuilly bowed his head. “So may it be,” he said. “Where do we go from here, my lady?”

“Now we find out,” said Death.

 ~~~

“Come on!” Combeferre urged, reaching for the soldier’s hand. He sobbed, perhaps from pain or fear. Then they were on him, as he knew they would have been, and there were three stabbing pains in his chest, one after another. And the sky was so blue, the dawn’s rosy fingers reaching out over the skyline, and then it was over. A pale gamine in black rags was taking his hand and leading him away.

 ~~~

Enjolras hadn’t let go of Grantaire’s hand. He regarded their cold bodies with a bit of remorse, and a strange distance, but he was wise. He knew his time had come. “Let others rise, he said softly to himself.

“It was inevitable, you know,” Grantaire said. Enjolras glared at him, but it was rather halfhearted. 

“Will I be dealing with your cynicism forever?” He asked.

“Likely,” Grantaire replied.

Enjolras let go of his hand. Grantaire protested, fearing he’d truly erred, but Enjolras simply reached down and took the red flag from the hands of his corpse and draped it over his shoulders before taking Grantaire’s hand again. “You deserve that much,” he said softly, and the scowl was gone.

“Are you ready, then?” The lady asked. Enjolras looked away from Grantaire and towards her, his face set as stone. Then he nodded. “Our time has come, I fear. Grantaire, shall you join me?”

“I think I shall,” Grantaire replied, a smile growing on his face. “Lady Death?”

Lady Death offered them her hands. Enjolras did not release Grantaire; he took her hand with his free one, and Grantaire took the other. Her hands were awfully cold.

The sound of wings… and they were gone.


End file.
